


Wire wrapped around

by Lynn_Nexus



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynn_Nexus/pseuds/Lynn_Nexus
Summary: Exploring the idea of "what if Roxanne was suicidal" and explaining the physical feelings that can come with depression.  Not for the faint of heart.





	Wire wrapped around

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, So this isn't a pretty story. It's written in a very stuttering, staccato style intentionally. The content it's self is a bit jarring. It's heavy and uncomfortable. 
> 
> I guess I'm just wanting people to know ahead of time that this is -nothing- like my other story on here. Not in style or in content. Ironically it was something that popped into my head while writing that other one. This was fueled by a total lack of sleep and some serious bouts of anger, frustration, and life in general on my part.

It felt like a slinky around her esophagus. Like an accusation waiting to be flung. Like the flat of a knife against her wrist. A shackle on her soul.

Smile. Let your hair grow out. Don't gain weight. Let them save you. Wear your make up. Be sure the dress isn't too short. Be sure it's not too long. Be coy. Don't be too smart. Don't get too skinny. Don't look unavailable. Be taken. Don't show your teeth. 

Be perfect.

But don't be too perfect.

Someone was twisting the slinky tighter. The finger pointed at her. The knife twisted. One fewer link in the chain.

Don't be sad. You're too pretty to be depressed. First world problems. If you just try harder to be happy.

Chose to be happy.

She hated it. She cut her hair short because if she didn't she'd cut her throat. She worked out so she wouldn't be weak. She studied. She showed her teeth. She would not be cowed. Dammit she would not be cowed. Even if they broke pieces off her heart. And just when she started thinking that she needed to move, when she thought she wasn't going to be able to take it any more, suddenly it happened and for one moment it was the perfect answer.

She was kidnapped. 

What a thing to be her salvation? Suddenly she wasn't a junior reporter and just a pretty face to have tell fluffy stories, she was _the_ reporter. And she reveled in it. But some how the voices came back even louder, and the slinky twisted again, harder this time. Threatening to close her air ways. Metro man's girlfriend. Just as fast she wasn't the reporter anymore, she was the damsel. Her make up was darker, lipstick brighter. Because as long as the lipstick was blood red she didn't feel need to bite the inside of her lip till it bled. So long as the lines around her eyes were dark it helped her not make lines on her thigh. Yea, she'd learned not to do that shit where people might see. It was high enough that even the most daring of her outfits wouldn't show them, and she made sure never to pick the scabs even if it was so gratifying to pick the wounds open. To hurt once more. Don't let it scar.

Being the focus of a tug of war between two supers can really fuck with your sense of self. Not the villain and the hero... The public's approval and their wrath. They _decided_ that she was dating the hero because he saved her. The rumors started the day she had gotten caught in one of Megamind's plots, she'd been trying to get an edge, a close up, something that might benefit her, something she could leverage and he'd seen her. Green eyes set in blue skin had landed on her with shock, then a sneer. The robot had snapped her up and set her next to the black clad, obviously alien, man. He was minutely taller than she was because of his head, they were both wearing inch heels. She was a reporter dammit. She noticed things. There was something about the grip he had on her that made her brain whirl. There was an arm holding both her elbows, while the other was pointing a space gun to her head as the robot attacked Metro Man. She could hear him whispering to himself. 

“No no! Not that way... Miss? What would it take to get you to scream for me?” He'd asked rather politely, especially for someone holding a gun to her head. “Maybe you should threaten me.” She'd hissed sarcastically and he chuckled softly behind her head. He'd thrown her down suddenly as the hero came swooping at him. Throwing her out of the way. When she looked back he was flung across the roof they were on. There was a moment where it was gratifying. Just a single sliver of a moment as he was suspended in the air. Until he fell to the ground. Then he stood and fought back. And he was beaten down. The hero wasn't particularly merciful. While he was on the ground the Hero got one last hit in. The purple on him made her regret even that moment of satisfaction. She got the exclusive interview with the hero who acted like nothing unusual had happened. She scolded him like a child.

She managed to get in the way of another of their fights.

“You admonished Metro Man for his brutality. That shocked me.” The blue man had said quietly after having been defeated again. “They didn't air that...” She almost apologized for her lack of sway at his comment that was nearly a compliment. He'd smiled at her for just a moment before they put him in the squad car. He never made it to jail. Then Megamind started kidnapping her and she refused to scream. She was angry at first but then the public loved her and she got more air time. The public had _decided_ she was Metro Man's girlfriend, not just a few people, everyone. And then her prospects dried up and the hero didn't care. It's not like he was cruel, he just, wasn't interested in her. That was fine by her except now she was lonely. Her friends had long since abandoned hanging out with her because of her work hours. Her supposed boyfriend was about as interested in her as he was potato salad. 

Then things started getting rough. 

As the traps got to looking more frightening the Hero took her away more rapidly. He snatched her harder and his iron hard hands left bruises. She told him he was hurting her but he always said she was better bruised than dead. But that was the problem. As the traps got to looking more frightening, she could see, from her unique perspective, that they were less likely to get close enough to do her damage. 

She kinda wished they would.

She wasn't supposed to think like that. She wasn't _supposed_ to be like that. The doctor had told her how to stop but she couldn't. He wanted to push pills down her throat but fuck him. She fired her psychiatrist and tried to deal with it herself. But it didn't work. Kidnappings worked wonderful for explaining away the damaged skin. She made sure to punch if she got her hand free. Twist until the ropes bit. On her really bad days? She'd lean. Lean into the trap, lean into the hero snapping her up, lean out of his arms as he was flying. But _he_ always stopped her. No not the hero. She was a set piece to him. A prop. No it was the villain. If he caught her leaning his machine would malfunction. Next time there were more safeties were on the traps. 

When Metro Man went on vacation for a week while Megamind was supposed to be in the hospital she hit a new low. It'd been years since she'd cut but she was told, among other things, she was gaining weight and she needed to diet. Hate bubbled in her. Hate for her life, hate for the public, hate for the hero. Hate for the way the Villain insulated her from harm. Hate for the way she loved to hear him talk. Hate for the leather clothes he wore. Hate for how much she wanted him to come and kidnap her. Hate for how he wasn't there to save her from another day of this bullshit.

He'd asked her to be his evil queen.  
She couldn't keep the banter up that day.  
The day he was put in hospital.  
The day he was put in hospital because of her.

“You don't want me.” She has said flatly and it took him back. The slinky in her throat twisted. He looked shocked and didn't turn the cameras on. “What?” She tried to swallow the slinky but it twisted tighter. “You don't want me. I'm opinionated and I'm boyish. I'm bossy. Don't offer me that. Because I might take you up on it. Because I don't know if I can do this anymore.” Metro Man crashed through the ceiling in on them and she saw her opportunity. She stood while the fish screamed in the background and tried to hit the button to stop the whirling blade near her. 

It tore the rope off.

It tore her arm open.

The hero was viscous. The villain didn't defend himself. He just tried to rush to her side. He was knocked down, and then kept coming towards her, and was knocked down again. “No! No! No!NoNONONOOO!” She heard his voice as she passed out from blood loss. She woke when the hero clamped his panicking hand over the wound and broke both bones in her arm. The villain was close by and screamed at him. She could hear him screaming in panicked rage. She couldn't hear the words but she could hear the panic. He tried to stop the hero but he was struck down. Tried to throw himself across her, stop her pain. He begged. He never begged. He was hit again. She told the hero to let go and screamed again as the pressure released. Blood flowed and the Blue, shaking hands stopped her bleeding. The gun was spun and he shot her skin with something that smelled like super glue. He was hit for it, for saving her. She passed out again. She woke in the ambulance and looked across at him in the other cot. They'd stabilized her arm and moved on to him. He was _covered_ in wounds.

Their carts stayed close to each other for far longer than she guessed they would. They were both stabilized. 

“Why did you stand up?” He asked softly but she heard it over the bustle. “I'm tired. Why did you throw yourself in front of that idiot train?” She hissed back at him. “Because.” He said back with the truest honesty she'd ever heard in her life. “You _needed_ it.” She went to say something but his cart was rapidly shoved away, he was cuffed to the bed, it wasn't like he was going anywhere on his own. She had a fancy cast. Both fractures were hairline. Work pays for the fancy cast so she can get back to work next week. Metro Man gives an interview with a different reporter. No one says anything about her broken arm. No one says anything about the long cleanly torn scar that goes across her wrist.

She gets more injuries. While the hero and the villain are out, she gets hurt a lot. She gets targeted by others twice. But none of them feel like rescues, not like him. Work thinks about making her freelance so they don't have to provide insurance. They talk about her growing her hair. They talk about her getting old. They talk and talk and _talk_.

The coil twists.

Metro Man is due back tomorrow. Her gilded cage is closed. She has no escape. Nothing except making this count. Making the hurt so bad she doesn't have to go back. Letting the spring that's wound through her throat collapse. Stop fighting. She sees the villain on TV, fleeing, not letting them see more than a little bit of him. He's running from the bridge. It's not far off. It's several dozen feet over the water. The hard, cold water. She finds herself on the bridge. 

The slinky starts to collapse.  
The accusation is in the air.  
The knife has pressure behind it.  
The weight is waiting for her to let go of it so it can drag her down.

They say most people regret while their falling. See that their problem was small. That it could have been solved. 

She regrets.

She regrets not seeing him again. The villain. She regrets not getting a chance to tell him thank you. Regrets that he might make that face like he did when she got hurt. Regrets not telling him his eyes were like the sun through a canopy of leaves. She should have told him that she loved how he thought, before the cameras came on. That he always treated her like a person and that meant the world for her. That if she hadn't gotten him put in the hospital she might have been able to take it for a few more years.

The water is black and hard and it's unforgiving. It fills her lungs like tar. Everything hurts, everything's cold. She tries to fight, not because she wants to but because her body refuses to let her sink. But she stops fighting and everything... even the pain goes black as the moonless night.

Sunrise.

Why the _fuck_ was there a sunrise?

“Miss Ritchi?” The fish. The _fucking_ fish in a gorilla mech. “Minion?” She asked, her throat raspy from breathing too much water. “Hello...” His voice held a sharp pain behind the false cheer. “Miss Ritchi, Please... Don't do that again...” She growled and coughed. “You should have left me in the water.” The mechanical hand was far softer than the man everyone thought was dating her had ever been. She sobbed and curled in on herself. “He doesn't know. No one does. You... you can call out of work today. You can hide with me. You can take a break.” She just nods in answer to him, unable to answer in words and he takes her away. She falls asleep in the mechanical arms and wakes in a shockingly soft bed. There's a bracelet on her wrist and she's not sure what it's for but it's black and studded, with a blue lightening bolt. She's still wearing almost nothing because her clothes are ruined but there's a blanket across her, covering her.

She sighs and walks out of the room. Minion is near by, cooking in a small, utilitarian kitchen and he smiles as he sees her with the blanket wrapped around her. As she opens her mouth to greet him a blue head comes around the corner. He's only got a small limp and the worst blow to his head has a small bandage on it but he's ok. He looks well. He looks healed. She knows he had to have broken bones but he's not showing any sign. No casts, no splints... nothing. Then green eyes look up to her and fill with concern as he freezes. “I'm sorry...” He says it immediately and she cocks her head at him, questioning. “For... Hurting you... For the bridge...” He stammers out and rage flares in her. Her head whipped around and eyes pointed at the fish who looks purely shocked that she's leveled that angry gaze at him.

She speaks through grit teeth. “You said he didn't know.” Her voice even and calm but backed with a thousand icy daggers and the fire of a thousand suns. They both look shocked at her. She doesn't remember pointing and throwing the blanket back. Her finger is pointed at the blue man, the one who's thrown himself at protecting her when she hurt herself. Protected her from the dunder head. From herself. Her make shift cape is off her arm, off her side, it's only on one shoulder. It shows the tattered remains of her clothes. “Meh... Metro Man _doesn't_ know.” The fish specifies and her eyes go wide as she looks back at the blue alien. His eyes are hurt when hers turn back to his. His mouth has fallen softly open as he looks at her arm. The remaining chill shows the white tissue with far greater contrast, it's usually more pink. She usually uses make up on it.

Shame lances through his face and he glances at the fish, a forgiving look crosses the face in the dome of glass. “Now you know what it feels like Sir.” The words are soft and maybe cruel but they hold no venom as she starts to feel the wire tighten again. It doesn't mater what they're saying, he knows. “Miss Ritci, I put the bracelet on you... but it was dark...” He answered a question she never asked, drawing her attention back to the man and then the bracelet in turn. She stormed away, blanket flowing behind her like a cape. She'd been here a few times and had an idea where the exit was and knew he'd have it labeled. “MISS RITCHI!” She ran. He catches her.

“LET GO!” She screams. He always wanted her to scream. He sobs against her back. “Stop.” He whispers and she tries to pry his hands off her waist. Rage and frustration rattle out of her in another scream. His arms are wrapped around her. “Please don't make me do this!” He pleads at the back of her head as her fingers scrabble at anything within reach. It's not sharp but it'll do. She attacks herself. She's vicious. She tears flesh on her hand and makes a choking noise as the screwdriver tip penetrates her belly but he's too fast. Dammit, it's not deep. Her arms are behind her back and he's screaming for Minion. She's sobbing again, _pathetic_. “FUCK! LET ME GO! JUST LET... Let me... Let me go.” She sobs bitterly, hanging limply from his hands. “No! Roxanne no!” They carry her back. They tie her hands because she won't stop fighting. They patch her up. She stops fighting. Tar black surrounds her again and she can't breath where she lays. 

She's drowning on dry land. In green with dappled yellow set in a sea of blue. The green dances over her skin, finding every mark. Every scab. She hisses as his ungloved fingers ghost over her thigh. Hovers over the list of marks. “See anything you like?” He caves in then goes hard. He's different now, determined. He snaps at her. “Yes. I do.” She squirms as he turns his back. She nearly breaks her wrist pulling her hands out from behind her, arching her back to get them past her hips. Like it was the easiest thing in the world she folds her legs through the loop of her arms and then tears the knot with her teeth, ripping it loose. Perfectly manicured fingernails lunge at her throat. Before her hands do much damage he pins them with a snarl and she glares up at him before feeling a pinch in her thigh. She never heard the “thoomp”. “Sir!” A voice from the door calls as blackness creeps in at the edges of her vision. “Oh no... I'll get her changed Sir...” Fucking fish drugged her.

The fish is still there when she wakes, keeping vigil. He offers pancakes and she refuses. Her throat is bandaged and she's wearing a jumpsuit. It covers all of her. Every inch from her ankles and wrists to her throat. “Miss Ritchi. You need to stop.” He admonishes again and she asks. “Why? Why should I?” She sees the blue man just outside the open door. Her wrists are free, her feet are bare. “Because, you're loved.” He says it with such conviction that she laughs. It's cruel and harsh. “Just think of Metro Man!” He tries, a bit desperate. “He doesn't care.” Her voice is flat as she informs him. “What?!” She looks into the wall and sighs. “He doesn't even see _me_. He sees a carrot. The thing he's supposed to get. The toy.” The aquatic eyebrows raise in concern. “We care...” He offers and she scoffs. “The bait.” He looks hurt. More hurt than she'd have ever guessed. The blue man is all rage and steam in the door. He blows. “No! A woman! A person. A key player. The... The...” He's at a loss for words? How unusual. He throws his hands up and is gone from the doorway.

They keep her there. She doesn't try again. They've made their point. While they're watching she can't finish it. They won't let her. She knows they're watching. They make sure she knows.

But she doesn't feel the twist nearly so often. She watches them and she feels the slinky relax. The fish talks when she needs to listen, but _he_ is quiet. _He_ is always listening. The hard line of his lips rarely relaxes and she thinks she'd like to see him smile. He's throwing himself into something, it's big thing. She makes a point over his shoulder about a weakness it has and sees shock on his face for a moment then a wicked little curl to his lips. The fish offers to make her something of her own to wear, something fit to her. She smiles. When was the last time she smiled? Smiled where she didn't want to show her teeth? Of course she'd like something. Red and black and sleek lines. It's off the shoulder and he makes a small ribbed collar to go with it. She feels like the queen of hearts in it. She laughs at herself in the mirror and catches a glimpse of blue through the crack between the mirrors stop for a moment. It flares at her knees and is longer in the back of the hem. She accuses Minion of making her an evil dress and he laughs at her. He says if she takes the collar off and wears bracelets instead of the gloves it's a perfectly normal elegant party dress. He makes her more serious clothes for normal wear. She still wears the jumpsuit because it's comfortable and he makes her another and a pencil skirt and a pair of slacks and some blouses. He keeps her busy for a pair of days. She knows he's keeping her busy.

And the coil relaxes.  
The accusation dies down.  
The blade turns flat.  
The weight isn't so heavy.

But it's still there. Looming.

He smiles. The whole world relaxes. As he's showing off what he's built and how he took her point and ran with it he smiles. It's sharp at the corners, it's wicked and his lips are still thin, stretched, things but he smiles. He stands closer. She's barefoot and he's wearing his work boots. She's wearing the jump suit because it's comfortable and she doesn't have to wear a bra with it and she likes it. He lets her touch him so long as he can't see the scars. He can't handle her touching him when he can see the scars but the cast is long since off and he took the bracelet off when her bones knit together. The fracture was gone in days rather than months. She touches his bare hand and his teeth grit together but there's a small twist at the corner of this thin lips before he looks away. He doesn't pull away. She likes her new world.

Her new world is turned upside down. There is a crash shortly after she laughs a bark at a joke he cracks just to make her laugh. The roof attacks her. It hits him. He always wanted her to scream before. She screams. He's wearing the gun at his hip, and she rips it from it's holster. There's an attack and she's going to stop it. She's going to protect her world.

Her name sounds from the hole and the gun is trained on the hero as she stands between him and the villain. The hero tries to grab her shoulder but she jerks away and his hand misses. She's knocked backwards and there's a new bruise for her to nurse where his hand clipped her chest. The villain rages in a way she's only heard once before as she lays limp on the parts of the ceiling. He's trapped below the part she's on and he reaches out to her hand, he's bloody, purplish red blood on his hand as it reaches for hers. She's going to fight. She flicks the gun with her thumb and shoots the beam as she stumbles. He coughs and she clutches his oversized head to her. The hero moves closer and she points the gun at him like an animal caught in a trap, her eyes wild.

“Roxie...” She's not sure if it's a question or a statement.

“STAY BACK!” She shouts. He winces. The breathing at her side is still ragged and the fish is off in the edges of her vision. Keep the hero concentrating on her. Aim him. Keep him away from the others. Keep them safe. It doesn't matter what happens to her. “What happened? There are search parties...” Her hand shakes as she points the gun at him. He's not afraid, just confused. “Come on... Lets get you home...” He offers gently and she feels the arms around her waist clutch slightly, hears a growl from below her.

“I am home.” He jolts. His face hardens. “Stockholm...” He starts to offer her an excuse and she hisses at him. “I'm not going back to that... _prison_.” He frowns. “I'm done with the gilded cage.” She hisses as she lifts out of the blue arms. She can tell his arms are pretending to be limp, hears the soft growl that stops with a tiny shocked exhale. He starts towards her and she pulls the trigger. He dodges it of course and everything is flying and sudden stops when he reacts. “You've gone crazy!” The hero hisses. She hisses back from where she landed. “Maybe... Maybe I lost my mind... Maybe that's why I jumped off the bridge.” She manages to stand, arm dislocated and hanging at her side but her chin is raised defiantly. He frowns again. He doesn't know what she's talking about. “Oh yea. You don't do _those_ do you? Only the happy stories. Where someone goes to jail and that makes the world safer. Where someone is happy to be saved.” He winces at her as he floats closer. “But if they don’t wanna be saved you just let someone else clean up the mess. He cleaned up your mess. _They_ cleaned up the mess you made of me... Put the broken pieces back together... and never _complained_ that there were some missing pieces.” He growls at that. He knows what she's talking about. He's complained. Too many times to remember he's complained about how she's upset and angry.

There's glass and debris on the ground, her feet are bare. She's bleeding again. She snatches the gun out of her own hand as he floats towards her. She doesn't point it at him. She points the gun at her own head. He stops. “Leave.” The hero's nostrils flair. “You'll be just like them.” He warns like she doesn't know. “I already am. It's a crime to try to kill yourself.” The shock wave from him leaving knocks her down. She's bleeding from the places where she made contact. Megamind is up and scrambling towards her, his leg had still been trapped and as soon as Minion could he came and lifted the rest of the mangled bits of roof off the leg. He slides towards her on his knees, pushing the glass and sharp bits like it was sand. She's hissing in pain. Her hair hasn't been cut in a while and it's long in her face, obscuring her face, her pain. He caries her. He holds her to his chest like she's made of glass. They patch her up... again. He puts her shoulder back in. “You should have taken his offer.” Megamind whispers from between thin lips. She sighs like he's being silly. “Why would I do that?” He hisses at her. “You keep getting hurt!” She snaps back. “You wanna get rid of me?!” He snaps as well, they glare into each others faces. “NO! I want you SAFE!” She becomes deathly quiet, her words slither like an asp. “This is better than what I'd be doing to myself.”

His mouth is still a thin angry line but there's understanding behind the green. Resignation. Knowing. They're quiet for a long time as he bandages her. She speaks first. “You... You've been... Like me.” She questions, her voice is soft and frail and the words hit him like a punch. His answer is just as frail. “Yes.” “I'm sorry.” She whispers and his eyes close. He takes a slow breath. “Me too.” She can see he still blames himself for how she feels. He doesn't know she's had the slinky in her throat for years. That the knife laid it's flat blade against her wrist before she'd met him. “I've... It's been like this for years.” She pulls back the left cuff of the jumpsuit and holds her wrist out to him. There is a thicker, whiter line, it's well healed but it's fat and ugly and she knows he's seen it before. “I was Sixteen. Put myself in the hospital. My mother claimed it was a cat scratch.” His eyes can't seem to focus on her wrist. He's looking up at her with pain behind the mask he's started to wear again. “Where's yours?” She asks and he blinks. He turns away and hisses angrily. “I don't scar.” She nods but asks again. “Where was it?” He stood sharply, he was finished and he snapped the sleeve back down over her wrist. “I don't remember.” She smirked a sour little smile at him. “Bullshit.” She moved to stand but he knocked her back on her ass with a sharp little thrust to her shoulders.

“Don't.” He hisses and she glares up at him, moving to stand again but he topples her with his weight. She grabs his clothes and pulls him to her as he hovers over her, face turned. She won't let him back up. They struggle and he's stronger but she keeps him off balance because he's being careful of her. She manages to knock his arms away and he falls the inches down onto her and she arcs into him. He shudders. She presses her lips to the side of his head and he pins one wrist. She squirms and he pins the other wrist. She twists as he lifts and manages to plant her lips on the side of his neck. She lets herself fall back down and his eyes are rolled into his skull. “The world would be paler without you.” It sounds like something he should say but the words come out of her mouth. Minion has been conspicuously absent ever since they started talking and he remains gone. Megamind looks like he's hiding behind the anger. A storm front of rage. “Want something?” She coos like honey and arsenic as he's still got her wrists planted. She lifts her chin and twists her thighs and she knows he can see it. His neck tightens and his eyes go stiff. “Of course.” He growls the words softly but he lifts himself off her. She doesn't hide her disappointment. It's a different kind of pain. It's not the coil.

That pain still looms. The coil still threatens but this is a different pain.

“You never got over it. Never got better.” She says with resignation and he stops cold. “No.” She sighs even more loudly. “Think the hero will put you down?” His shoulders drop and he's silent. “I hope he doesn't. I don't think I'd live through that.” She mused softly and his shoulders jolt again. “Poor Minion. Dealing with us.” He walked away and she lay languidly on the couch he'd fixed her up on. Sadness dripping over her like tar.

She fights the tar.

She fights.

Minion finds her alone on the couch, crying. He tries to comfort her but she doesn't want comfort. She lashes out. She doesn't want to stop until she's done. He understands. He _lets_ her and it's everything she needed. She feels better. In a pair of days she can walk again and they leave her in the lair to enact a plan. She gets excited when she hears someone walking. But it's the Hero. “What are you doing here?” He looks like a husk. Hollow blue eyes barely see her. “Time to leave.” He holds his hand out to her and she feels scared. “Aren't you... Supposed to be out stopping them?” He looks over his shoulder at nothing. There's no passion in him as he looks back over her. “Yea. I am. They'll stop once I have you.” She's bait again. She's tied again. She's what the city wants her to be again.

This time she fights.

This time she has a reason to fight.

The damsel isn't supposed to love the villain. But she does. When the hero's eyes fill with angry red pinpoints, she screams. The hero can't take it. He can't take her screaming. He reacts poorly. The back of his hand against her chest breaks her ribs. It collapses her lungs. It stops her heart. The hero did it, plunged her into the black. He knows he did.

She dies.

She's dead.

The little blue cube is clutched in shaking blue hands. She's a little blue cube held against his heart because he can't _do_ anything right now. He holds the cube like it's the most precious thing in the world. To him, it is. He fights. He wins. The Hero falls. The city forgives him for falling. The city doesn't care who killed her. The city holds her funeral but the blue man holds the cube. 

A drop hits the cube. He's ready. He can _do_ now. 

He refills her lungs with air. He starts her heart. And she fights. She lives. She's weak but she fights because he's fighting for her. She reaches to him and he lets her grab him. Lets her pull him. He hunches over her. He's fragile and he shatters over her. The thin line of his lips break in a sob. His hands shake. He tells her what happened. He asks her why. “God... WHY?”

“Because.” She says it as if it was the most simple thing in the world. “He was going to kill you. You were going to let him.” She can see him try to put the sharp edged, shattered pieces back in place. Watches him try to collect himself. “So you got him to kill _you_??” She nods and he clenches his jaw. He's hard edges and shattered pieces but she lets him try to glue all the parts back in. She knows before she says it that it'll break him open. She breaks him so she can put back the pieces she knows he's missing. The pieces she stole. “Yes! I love you.” He crashes across her. Hard lips land against soft ones. The thin line of his lips soften against her skin. When the kiss breaks he's already crying. “WHY!?” The whispered shout against her lips is hissing and confused. It demands answers. But love doesn't have nice neat answers like how or why or when. Love has a million broken pieces that fit together just so. No one piece makes enough sense to explain. So she doesn't try to explain.

“Why not?” She asks. Her hands are on his back as it's curved over her. He needs to protect her still. From what, he doesn't know. His spine is sharp and curled like he's feral and wild, he snarls. “A million reasons! You _DIED_!!” His eyes go wide when she laughs. “And you didn't.” He's trembling, blue skin pale at the cheeks and dark at the eyes. Before he can open his mouth she stops him, fingers resting on the thin line of his lips. “You didn't die, so you could save me.” He gathers her in his arms and his head falls against her chest. She's still weak and he's mindful of her weakness. He holds her. His fingers are hard against her, clamped on her like she's going to turn into smoke. She doesn't care if his fingers bruise her. He can't let go, can't make his fingers uncurl. Her hands smooth his spine. She uncurls his back and bleeds the wild out of him and smooths his sharp edges. “I trust you. And I'm sorry it hurt you.” Her words are careful. He can't think she's sorry she trusted him. Her words were careful. He can't claim she's sorry she loves him.

Stillness. The only motion his rattling, ragged breaths against her skin. With him wrapped around her for longer than either knows. She turns her chin and twists her thighs and catches his ragged breath. She tilts her shoulders just so. She offers him her throat. He doesn't understand. He knows it's vulnerable and it calls to him. He sees it's soft and he wants to touch it. He doesn't understand why she offers it. She closes her eyes and he sinks towards the taunting, begging flesh.

He's like fire, licking across her skin. She pants. He snarls. Her hands grip his clothes. He moans. She shudders. His fingers uncurl to fly across her. But she's weak. He tries to stop but his teeth glide across her skin and she moans. He tries to stop but her thighs twist and his fingers twitch with his restraint. She's lost in his arms arcing into his touch like lightening. When he breaks from her skin to breath she curls into him. Her fingers glide across his back as he pants, as he regains control of himself. The metallic noise of his zipper sends a cold shock through him. Her fingers hook into the fabric and pull as he retreats. Hungry eyes look up at him as he tries to stop her. A giggle, a soft, sweet, giggle. Wanting and amused she smiles. She smiles like stars and it's real and it's wonderful. She's kidnapped him and she knows it. She's caught him, like a moth to the flame he leans into her. His hand, bare, slides across her skin. Slides to her rib.

She hisses in pain. She's hurt still. They curse together as he tries not to panic. Tries not to rage. She laughs breathlessly. He shakes his head at her, sets her down gently. She whines. He reassures her. He runs. She feels the twist at his absence. She worries he's running from her. Worries he's gone. That he's left her. He runs back. She takes a ragged breath. He's got clothes and things. Minion finally comes to join them. He'd told the fish to stay gone. She smiles, it feels like the wire is creeping out her mouth, choking her. They work on her, they work over her. She doesn't try to hide her skin from them even as they remove the last of the tattered clothes. She's bare to them and they can see all the bruises, all the cuts. Minion is kind. He covers her some. Helps her be warm. They check her ribs and they keep her safe. She passes out before they finish.

He's next to her when she wakes. There's a cot and he's asleep on it. She can reach him. She reaches for him. Everything is stiff and it still feels like the wire is up in her mouth. Like she could cough it out and let him fix the places where it cut. Like it was a real thing, a wire slinky that if she was careful she could twist it until it wound out of her throat so she could throw the cursed thing away. He shoots up when she touches him. She smiles softly at him, beckons him closer. Patches of bandage litter her skin. She's wrapped in bandage from her navel to her sternum. There's regret and fire in his eyes but he moves closer. He's got a smear of red on his bare chest. There are dots of bandage on his lithe frame. Blue hands tremble as she holds her hand out. Blue slides across peach. “Lay with me.” Her words startle him in the silence. “What?” His whisper is harsh, incredulous. “You're...” She smirks at him, like the wire is curled out of the corner of her mouth. “Naked. Yes. Lay with me.” She sees him try to pull back, try to deny. But he's her captive and he knows it. “You don't have to if you don't want to.” She offers while she pulls back the corner of the blanket. He hesitates. There's fire, desire, behind his eyes. But there's fear. Not fear of her. Fear of what he'll do. Fear he'd hurt her.

She tugs on him and he sighs. He sits next to her. She lets go to run her hands on his skin. Her hands spread across his back and he grips the edge of the bed. “Blue...” She murmurs, as much to address him as to comment on the skin under her touch. His back arches. His shoulders push back into her hands. One hand runs down the other continues up. She pushes herself up to run a hand up his neck. He groans and shudders. She runs her nails back down. He gasps. She pulls him and he turns towards her. “Lay down.” She purrs and he growls. “Temptress...” His shoes stay on the floor while his feet slide next to hers. He leans over her, his weight on his elbows. Her fingers curl around the back of his neck and he grinds his teeth with his restraint. She smiles. He kisses the smile away. Her hips twist towards him. He groans. Slim fingers slide down a tense back. Slip to his hips. Dance along the edge of the fabric. She pushes while he's kissing her. He hisses into her mouth. “ _Off_.” She whispers, pulling on the waist band to indicate what she's talking about. He shakes his head and she growls. “Please...” She coos to him, a seductive little plea. Her fingers are at the zipper, tugging. His lips curl. “Roxanne...” He breaths. His hips press into her and she unzips him.

Wanting hands run along the lines of his body, sliding the pants away. He's not like a man, but he is. She doesn't care. Hips press together, grind against each other. His need and his worry clash. She's caught in his tornado. Strong and lean he touches her and she embraces him. He ravages her sweetly. He's teeth and hands, hard and needy. He's lips and tongue, soft and careful. She draws him closer with soft hands and hard nails. She feeds his need with her own. Her nails on his back, thighs around his hips. Her lips land on blue, on his chest, his cheek, his neck, his arms. Her voice raises, she cries out, her body like a live wire. He's burning, consumed by desire. His head dips to her unmarred collar. Teeth and lips bruise her sweetly and she squeals. He pours into her and their energy ebbs. His arms shake as he holds himself above her. He refuses to put any pressure on her body, her still bruised, tender body. They roll onto their sides. She smiles and pets him. His face is warm and worried. She kisses him and lays her head down, closing her eyes.

For now, even if she's sure she'll feel it again later, the slinky is gone. The pressure she feels in her throat, the threat of her worry and fear and anger, is gone. He eased the fear, waylaid the anger, calmed the worry. For that blissful moment there is no knife at her wrist, promising pain and blood. There is no accusation waiting to break her spirit. Her soul is weightless and free.

She pretends it won't come back.

She believes it.

Because until this moment ends. It won't come back.


End file.
